Oathbound
by Elwaith
Summary: Gimli makes Elrond remember a bitter lesson, learned from his foster parents Maglor and Maedhros long ago.
1. Oath-bound

Disclaimer: None of the characters or the story here belongs to me. The quoted text from the Lord of the Rings will be italicized.

The Fellowship was about to depart. Elrond came out with Gandalf to give his last advice. _"The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On him alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Ring, nor to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save members of the Company and the Council, and only then in gravest need. Te others go with him as free companions, to help him on his way. You may tarry, or come back, or turn aside into other paths, as chance allows. The further you go, the less easy will it be to withdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of your hears, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road."_

" _Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," said Gimli._

" _Maybe," said Elrond, "but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall." "Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart," said Gimli._


	2. Oath-sworn

The door to the room they were hiding in crashed open. The sounds of screaming and clashing metal became louder. Two elves entered with drawn swords. Elrond's eyes were drawn unbidden to the fire haired one's right arm, which ended at the wrist. "Odd, what I notice even now," he thought hysterically. Behind the chest of clothes, his brother Elros whimpered before he could hold it back. The elves' heads turned toward the sound.

Elrond reacted instinctively, grabbing Elros and stepping in front of him, the knife Elwing had given him right before she left clutched in his fist. "W-what do you want?!" he screamed at the intruders. The elves looked taken aback. There was a tiny softening in one of the intruder's eyes. "Who are you?" demanded the other. "Sons of Eärendil and Elwing," was the response. The elves traded an inscrutable look. The one on the left raised his sword, slowly and with great reluctance. "Maedhros, wait! We can take them in. I know you don't want what happened with Dior's sons to happen again." A nod, a look of relief, and the sword withdrew.

Still suspicious, Elrond did not let go of his knife. "Maedhros? Are you Maglor then? What did you do to naneth?" The silence confirmed what he had feared. "Why?" he whispered. Maglor knelt to look them in the eyes. He had decided that he owed Elwing's sons the truth. "Your mother was on a cliff when we caught up to her. When we demanded the Silmaril she refused. She turned and jumped before we could stop her." Tears were streaming down the elflings' faces. "I know you have no reason to trust us, but we truly would not have had it come to this."

Elrond and Elros were taken into Maglor's custody. Hesitant at first to trust the attackers of their home, they could not help but soften toward the remaining sons of Fëanor. The twin brothers could not help but see vast regret lingering on their guardians, despite their deeds. One day Elrond asked Maglor in the middle of his sword lesson, why he and Maedhros had attacked Sirion if they were so reluctant. Maglor sighed and put his sword back in the armory. He gestured for Elrond to do the same. They walked toward the library, where Maglor knew Elrond would feel more at ease. They sat down at one of the tables in a section where they knew few scholars ever visited. "To understand why, you need to know about the Oath. Long ago in Valinor, when Morgoth killed my grandfather Finwë, stole my father's most precious Silmarils and cast the land into shadow, my father swore an oath. My brothers and I joined in.

'Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean,

Brood of Morgoth or Bright Vala,

Elda or Maia or Aftercomer,

Man yet unborn upon Middle-Earth,

Neither law, nor love, nor league of swords,

Dread nor danger, not Doom itself

Shall defend him from Fëanáro, and Fëanáro's kin,

Whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh,

Findeth keepeth or afar casteth,

A Silmaril. Thus swear we all...

Death we will deal him ere Day's ending,

Woe until World's end! Our word hear thou,

Eru Allfather! To the Everlasting

Darkness doom us if our deed faileth...

On the holy mountain hear in witness

and our vow remember,

Manwë and Varda!'"

Maglor's eyes shone with sorrow and reproach at his own foolishness. "We could not break such an Oath. We had sworn it to Eru himself, damning ourselves to Darkness if we fulfilled it not. We could not break it even if it demanded Kinslaying. We had not foreseen the blood-price our Oath would demand, but once sworn, it bound us tighter than chains of adamant." Elrond listened in quiet horror. He understood now why the haggard look never left Maedhros and Maglor's faces. His hand reached across the table to cover Maglor's shaking one. They sat in silence together.


	3. Oath-broken

" _Or break it," said Elrond._ No one at the Council could know fully the bitter lesson that had given him that wisdom. His captors who had become his foster parents were lost. Maedhros had died by his own hand, and Maglor wandered the shores an outcast, endlessly singing his grief. The Oath had broken its makers.


End file.
